It has been a long time since the last post. There was improvement. Then things got worse. Then better again. Slowly, overall, things have improved. The need to share, to post has waned. Every year, around the anniversary of the breakup and around her birthday, the feeling of hopelessness, of despair would return. Except the breakup anniversary this year went by with nary a thought of her, save for realisation that there was nothing but contentment and the usual darkness had not enveloped me as it did the years before.
And yet, here we are. Despite other relationships, despite all the progress, the thoughts of Her have permeated my vary being these past few weeks. Why? Why now? Why still? Life has been getting better! There’s someone who really likes me and respects me. And She is in a relationship as well.
Couple of years ago we have reconnected and would occasionally hang out. She had broken up with a boyfriend and was probably feeling lonely and decided to contact me. We did not spend a lot of time together but we would go to shows or get a drink every now and then. All my friends were vehemently against it but even that <a href="Meager“>meager presence of her in my life was enough. It was better than nothing!
But for the last half a year or so She has been gone from my life again. And that still hurts. It shouldn’t but it does. I wish it didn’t but it does. I wish the pain would stop but on and on it goes…
I must’ve dreamed a thousand dreams
Been haunted by a million screams
When Genesis wrote this song they were not talking about my situation. But in many ways it still applies. I have been living in the Land of Confusion for the past 6? 7? 8 months? Considering how things turned out I have clearly been the one in the dark since before the breakup. Since the breakup though, I have really understood what it means to live through those thousand dreams and million screams. I wake up in the middle of the night sometimes. Other times, it hits me like a tank during the days. I want to scream so hard that my vocal cords are ripped out by the force of the escaping air. There does not seem to be an end to this despair. I know there are others struggling with the same questions but it makes not my burden any less crushing.
And not much love to go round
Can’t you see
This is a land of confusion.
In this case, my problem is quite the opposite: there is way too much love. It fills me to the brink and it has nowhere to go for She is not with me. I think of Her and my eyes fill with tears. Some say it is better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all. Bullshit! How could that possibly be true?! How could that pain be worth anything?! How could running out of the office to escape in the bathroom and collapse on the floor hyperventilating and crying be worth anything?!
The refrain of the song represents which direction I need to choose. Though lacking in ability to see where to go, or the strength to continue for much longer, or the belief that the world without Her is not the one worth living in, let’s hope that one day I will be able to get better.
This is the world we live in
And these are the hands we’re given
Use them and let’s start trying
To make it a place worth living in.
Amen to that.
Once upon a time, there lived… me. For a long time things worked exactly the same way. Not in a good way, mind you, but there was consistency to my choices in life. And although not a conscious one, it was a habit nevertheless. A habit that I did not break. Until one day I did. I met a girl and we hit it off. It did not work out and I was heartbroken. Now, dear reader, if you have been reading this blog prior to getting to this post, you might think that the girl in question is the one I have been writing about for the past few months. It is not that girl. But I digress. I was heartbroken and it took me a while to get over her. That fact that she was batshit insane helped me out a lot. And so things went back to normal. Well… My normal. Which is to say not normal for most people but whatever it was that made up normality for me. You get the point.
So I started walling myself off from people and emotions. Again. It is a sound emotional defence. If you do not get close to anybody than they cannot hurt you. It can only get you so far though. We need to feel emotional intimacy. Having felt it before, meant that I could not go back to the way things were. I broke my habit of taking myself out of the human equation. I tried other solutions. I started doing improv. Yet even there my habit of building a defensive shield around myself was a problem. Nobody wants to see a Dalek on stage. I started making new friends and getting perspective on my life. I started to feel more freely.
And then I met Her and my life has changed forever. I fell in love. I fell in love harder and with more openness than ever before. I had been living without feeling any emotional intimacy for so long that, having tasted it once before, I dove in head first with complete disregard for the likely dangers of doing so. The rest is history. You can pretty much guess what happened from the name of the blog alone. I went into a complete emotional breakdown.
And so hear I am. Broken. Wondering if it was worth it. If I figure it out, I will be sure to make another post.
Lately, it has been a struggle to keep writing. The novelty of having to write at least one post a day has worn off and the boiling geyser of feelings has subsided. Now it seems that all there is left is dull ache of sorrow.
Sunday night I had been able to get myself to the theatre and do a pretty good improv show. In the fit of irony, the universe has arranged that in the very first scene I did in the workshop before the show, my scene partner’s character broke up with my character. All I could think of is “Shit! Just don’t start crying.” I managed not to do that. There was a small crowd but it was better that way for me, though I imagine, not for the theatre. As smoothly as the show went, I still struggled with trying to keep positive. It is not easy for me at the best of times and I am not going through the best of times at present.
Getting back to writing though, the challenge of doing one post a day or more has been beneficial in establishing a discipline of writing. I need that structure now to help me get through this shit.
It should also be of help in my therapy. I am actually supposed to write two letters: one to my dead grandfather and one from him. The first one is relatively easy. He is on my mind a lot and I think of the time we could have been having together often. The second letter will be hard. I can’t even imagine what to write. It has been almost 19 years since he passed away. I remember his face but not his voice. I rarely think in my native language these days and that puts me even further away from trying to access him deep in my psyche. What would he say? How would he say it? At best, that letter “from him” would just be me saying what I think I know I should do. I wish I could hear his voice. I wish I could listen to his advice. (I will definitely need to do a post inspired by him, about him very soon.) In the meantime, I will have to find a way to keep at it.
In improv we say (I believe Meisner pioneered this) “if you are stuck in the scene, state something that is true. This writing challenge has been doing exactly that for me: a way to say something true about myself in order to keep going. A constant lighthouse of stability and common sense to keep me away from the rocky shores of dark, evil thoughts that would eviscerate me.
I am taking this life one day at a time.
I just have to keep on writing one post at a time.